


A Valentine for Winnetou

by LadyLustful



Category: Winnetou - Karl May
Genre: Charlie writes poetry, Double Drabble, Love Poems, M/M, Oneshot, Romance, Sappy, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-17 02:06:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13649196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLustful/pseuds/LadyLustful
Summary: It is a fact, appearing canonically in Karl May's books, that Old Shatterhand, aka Charlie, writes not only prose but also poems. And seeing how he never shuts up about Winnetou's beauty and general wonderfulness in prose, well...Or, no matter how weird it seems, Charlie writes love poetry for Winnetou.Double drabble.Warning: Love, gayness and sappiness galore.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alby_mangroves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alby_mangroves/gifts), [Karla1209](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karla1209/gifts), [Nschotschi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nschotschi/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Fist and the Blade](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13043427) by [alby_mangroves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alby_mangroves/pseuds/alby_mangroves). 



> For more Karl May gayness, join the Winnetou discord here: https://discord.gg/m7xFdHJ

The dim glow of fire in the darkness. The crackle of wood, the distant calls of night animals and the scratch of a pencil upon a notebook's page.  
“What is my brother writing?”  
“A poem.”  
“What about?”  
“You – the way you look, the way you act, the way I feel about you...”  
“Will you read it?”  
Charlie blushes, the way that white people do, easily visible even in the darkness to Winnetou's keen eyes.  
“If you want me to. I mean, it's probably not very good, I'm more of a prose writer, but I hope you like it even a little.”  
“It cannot be bad. My brother puts thought and effort into doing everything well.”  
And apparently, stating that simple fact makes Charlie blush even more.  
“If you like”, says Charlie, and then he reads the poem, voice quiet but steady.  
There are four stanzas - four stanzas filled with love and lust and longing, tame yet decidedly evocative, teeming with comparisons and metaphors, praising Winnetou's beauty, strength, kindness, keen mind and other virtues. Winnetou listens in silence, then says:  
“I think it is good.”  
Charlie looks so happy he positively glows with it as he leans in for a kiss.


	2. Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble and double drabble, exploring the tactile part of Winnetou and Old Shatterhand's friendship, from the prespective of each. Or more-than-friends-ship, actually, but there is no explicitness and little implied, just an overabundance of feelings.

  
  
White men are a lot freer with casual touches. They do not mean anything by it, it is just their habit, their culture. They will shake hands, pat your back, drape an arm over your shoulders - while neither knowing nor caring for you.

Charlie is white, but he is by no means usual. He, too, will touch me, but these gestures have an underlying motive - tokens of the intimate bond that we share, the deep affection we have for each other.

The first time he embraced me was after my father and sister died. I was numb with grief and rage - so broken that I could only scream at the world inside, too lost for words.

Charlie somehow knows anyway.

Hesitantly, he puts his arms around me. I have a strong suspicion he would not have done so, had he realised how intimate, how familial this gesture would seem to me - he would fear overstepping a boundary.

But then, he is family. All that I have left now - and the sorrow of my loss is tempered by the gratitude for his presence. I rest my head against his shoulder and allow myself to be held and comforted.

 ***

Warmth. My Winnetou lying satisfied in my arms, head on my shoulder, face buried against it. My hand in his hair, petting, playing, running over it and through it as I marvel at the silky texture.

"It does not bother you that I keep doing this?"

Winnetou blinks before he speaks, lips and eyelashes moving against my skin, languid and blissful.

"If my brother's touch was less than welcome I would have told him so."

"You do seem to hate the touch of anyone else."

"I actually love being touched by people who love me. Strangers are something else entirely."


End file.
